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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29403111">I am sick of the chase, But I’m stupid in love (And there’s nothing I can do)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/playlistmusings/pseuds/playlistmusings'>playlistmusings</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Folk of the Air - Holly Black</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Canon Compliant, F/M, Pining, Post-Book 2: The Wicked King, cardan has feelings, like as well as i can write angst so..., pre Queen of Nothing</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 10:07:18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,571</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29403111</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/playlistmusings/pseuds/playlistmusings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Response to a prompt from tumblr:  “ Do you accept fanfic prompts? Because I got an idea it’s post TWK and Cardan’s wondering why Jude won’t come back and then he begins to reevaluate how he treated Jude in the past? And he realizes he treated Nicasia like a queen and Jude like dirt and he begins to wonder if Jude’s not coming back because of him and he begiins to regret how he treated her?"<br/>(Originally posted on my tumblr)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Cardan Greenbriar &amp; Locke, Jude Duarte/Cardan Greenbriar, Taryn Duarte/Locke, some discussion of Cardan &amp; Nicasia</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>76</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>I am sick of the chase, But I’m stupid in love (And there’s nothing I can do)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I wrote this all in one sitting instead of starting my school work. Which means that I am apparently better at getting things written in a timely matter than I thought I was, but I am also apologetic if this isn’t the best because I should probably edit it more, but oh well. I might expand on this at a later date? Because I feel like it could be better? but who knows. <br/>As always, come shout at me on tumblr, prompts are always welcome!<br/>https://playlistmusings.tumblr.com/ </p>
<p>Title from Killer by Phoebe Bridgers</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Cardan was pacing. It was an unfortunate habit he had picked up since becoming king, the <em>actual </em>king that is, one without a meddling seneschal secretly working behind the scenes. It had started at some point while Jude had been held captive by Queen Orlagh, when his days bled together because of repetitive meetings and his nights bled together because of the worry that had filled the pit of his stomach. It felt odd to be alone with his thoughts, usually when things got bad, Cardan made a point to surround himself with people and vices, in an effort to escape his mind. But those days, where all he could think about was Jude and getting her back safely, it felt wrong to surround himself with people he knew she would hate, doing things that would cause her to look at him with disdain. So, he paced.</p>
<p>He had hoped that the habit would be forgotten when he got her back. When he slipped the ring on her finger and proclaimed her his queen, hoping that meant that instead of pacing at night he would hold her body to his and never worry about her safety again. But then she had killed Balekin and Queen Orlagh had demanded a punishment and he had exiled her.</p>
<p>It had been far too long since then, far too long since Cardan had heard her voice or saw her face, and, yet she still filled his mind. He felt like when he was younger, writing <em>Jude, Jude, Jude</em> over and over again on paper before hiding it away in books, as if he could stop his thoughts from controlling him by forcing them onto paper. He had tried that since her exile. Writing long winded prose explaining that she should come back, that she should come <em>home</em>. He had not-so-subtly hinted at the loophole he had left, writing <em>until such time as she is pardoned by the </em><b>crown </b>with such emphasis on the last word of the phrase, that he knew that lest she had, somehow, never received a single letter, then she had to understand his meaning. So he was forced to assume that she understood his meaning and chose to ignore it, chose to ignore <em>him</em>.</p>
<p>That fact hurt him more than he would admit. Throughout the whole time he had known Jude, he didn’t mind that she hated him, in fact, it usually made it easier for him, knowing that she thought of him at all, even if her thoughts were colored with anger and hatred. This time though, when he had, for once, been trying to help her, when he thought she should finally see through the cruelty and understand he didn’t want to hurt her, he just wanted <em>her</em>. Jude. The High Queen. His queen.</p>
<p>So he paced. And contemplated writing another letter.</p>
<p>Eventually he decided against it, less so because he thought it’d be best not to, but because the sun was slowly moving up in the sky and he knew he only had a few short hours until he’d be forced to go to a meeting and then another and end the evening with a revel. Slipping under the spider silk sheets, Cardan forced thoughts of Jude out of his mind and focused on ignoring the way his bed felt too big and cold and lonely.</p>
<p>—–</p>
<p>Cardan felt his crown tipping precariously off the edge of his head as he sat haphazardly on his throne. He was aware that he should be smiling, laughing, dancing, <em>something</em> other than frowning on his throne, wishing he could get drunk without seeing Jude every time he closed his eyes. To be fair, Jude was usually hidden behind his eyelids, but when he was less than sober, his mind muddy with alcohol and his inhibitions lowered, he found that her face was more vivid, that he could feel the intensity of her glare as if she were right next to him. So he didn’t drink.</p>
<p>He was slightly aware of Locke and Taryn and Nicasia off to his side, walking towards him with drinks in their hands and mischief in their eyes. As they approached the throne, Cardan saw Locke’s eyes catch on a faerie walking past, clearly enamored and lust driven, despite his wife’s presence at his side. It was no surprise that Locke split from the trio, leaving Taryn to wander away pretending that she wasn’t hurt by his actions. So only Nicasia was left to approach his throne, nodding her head in a small acknowledgement of his position before speaking.</p>
<p>“My King, wouldn’t you rather be dancing or doing something more enjoyable than sitting on your throne all alone?”</p>
<p>Cardan could feel a part of himself come to the surface, the other side of him reserved for his school friends and members of the court that reeked of self-importance, yet polite in the way only someone raised from birth to be a part of the gentry could master. The frown slipped from his face as he replied, “Of course, but, alas, a king must make time for his subjects to come to him with their problems.”</p>
<p>Cardan refused to acknowledge that when Jude was seneschal times like these were secretly one of his favorites. He would put on airs while drinking and laughing, all the while knowing Jude would always be by his side, whispering into his ear exactly what he should say and do. Now, it felt like a slap in the face to only have Nicasia by his side, someone he couldn’t banter with or insult or antagonize. The thought shot a painful jolt through his heart. Imagining the rest of his life like this: lonely, boring, sad, and all because of his actions. It was something he was loath to admit, that it was his words that caused Jude to leave, even if a part of him knew that it was a risk when he said those words on the beach, a bigger part of him hoped it wouldn’t be true. And he was wrong, so instead he was left alone with Nicasia and her pretty smiles and flirtatious words, all the while wishing she were someone else.</p>
<p>Something about the moment reminded him of all the revels before this mess, before the bloody coronation and Jude’s secret plot and everything, when him, Nicasia, Locke, and Valerian would walk through these same rooms, demanding respect and hurting those who refused to give it. It almost felt nice to be lost in those memories, of trysts and teenage foolishness, until Jude’s face worked its way into the memories. For every moment of satisfaction he got, there was a memory of Jude’s frown or hate shooting from her eyes, burning into his heart. It was enough for him to mumble some half-hearted apology to the direction of Nicasia as he slipped from the room into the halls that led to his chambers.</p>
<p>His mind felt too full, as he thought through all the times he had antagonized or hurt Jude. Flashes of her face stubbornly refusing to show weakness as he watched Valerian force faerie fruit into her mouth, glimpses of her saving Taryn from drowning in the river, all of it clicking into place in a horrid montage of his misdeeds. What struck him the hardest is that for every memory of the pain he caused Jude, there was Nicasia, standing by his side laughing or smiling, perfectly happy. Even as she toyed with his heart, leaving him for Locke, he had shown Nicasia respect and knew that she would be there as a friend— regardless of how messed up his definition of the word was. It hurt, finally acknowledging that while he only saw the kind gestures, he gave Jude, pricking her so she would stop suffering from the faerie fruit induced madness, offering her an out from his antagonizing, she must only remember the pain that he had caused, all the while treating someone half as deserving of his love and compassion more kindness than her.</p>
<p>It suddenly made sense why she didn’t respond to his letters or come back to him. Because even if he had thought he made his loophole clear, even if he had exaggerated the point in his letters time and time again, Jude was used to seeing the worst parts of him, of being blinded by the pain and unaware of the miniscule efforts he had made to help her.</p>
<p>Every memory stung like an arrow lodging its way into his skin, knowing that all of his actions were horrible, that <em>he </em>was horrible and cruel. Knowing that Jude must think of him as horrible and cruel, and that she was right to believe it. But the realization that right when he had earned her trust, right when Jude had seemed to let go of the memories of Cardan’s cruelty, he had exiled her, had denied her as his queen, in front of Orlagh and Nicasia, struck his heart like a dagger. And now she wasn’t coming back, because of him. Because he was everything she must think him to be, a wicked king, undeserving of love or respect, least of all from her.</p>
<p>So, when he arrived back in his room, thinking of all his regrets, refusing to let himself remember anything but the truth of how he hurt the one woman he would do anything for, he paced. </p>
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